


Painted Flowers

by NycterisM



Category: The Hunger Games
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NycterisM/pseuds/NycterisM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'During the next two days, I spend time with almost everybody headed for the arena. Even the morphlings, who, with Peeta's help, paint me into a field of yellow flowers.' From Catching Fire p281.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted Flowers

Katniss lost interest in building snares. She'd perfected her technique in her first games and now she'd proven to herself she hadn't lost her touch she sat back and watched the others; sparring, testing, tasting, chatting. She soon found Peeta on the far side of the room. He was immersed in painting and some sort of silent discussion with the morphlings from district six. Katniss suspected he'd gone over just to take himself away from the games for a moment. To stop thinking about the uncertain violent days that loomed ahead.

He seemed content. She smiled and made her way over to them. She sat at Peeta's elbow and peered over his shoulder. He was recolouring a chunk of wood into gently burning embers. His talent always amazed her. She was sure if she held her hand over the wood she'd feel the heat rising.

Peeta let her watch silently until the female morphling, who'd been staring transfixed at Katniss for several long moments suddenly reached over and placed a yellow splotch on her hand. Peeta waited for Katniss' reaction. She smiled. The morphling girl grinned and placed another splotch next to the first. Then she added several tiny green circles. Peeta drew a brown line nearby, and braced himself for what he thought was sure to be some sort of anger or annoyance. To his surprise Katniss gave him a small smile.

He saw the tiredness in her eyes; the emotional and physical strain of the past few days evident. She hadn't slept well again last night. An idea sprang into Peeta's mind. He wasn't sure if she'd allow this, but, he placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly asked, “Lie down?” Katniss paused, and then nodded and his hands followed her to the cement floor.

As the cold hard floor pushed against her back she wondered what she was letting herself in for but as she watched Peeta reach for paints she knew one thing – she trusted him. He nodded to the morphlings as they brought grasses and little yellow flowers from the pile of flora nearby. They strategically placed the grass around her body, covering her clothes.

She remembered how Rue had looked covered in the white flowers of her namesake and wondered if she now looked similar. Buried. She didn't have long to consider it as Peeta picked up her hand. Peeta's hands. Several times the warmth and assurance of those fingers grasping hers were the only thing enabling her to continue on, to smile, to speak, to stand up to Snow. His fingers moved against her skin as he cradled her hand in his and painted a small yellow flower on the inside of her wrist.

Katniss held her breath as the female morphling leant over her, inspecting her eyes. Her eyelids were pushed closed and Katniss steeled herself. A cold blob of paint hit her cheek and she flinched a little. It was followed by the soft bristles of a fine brush as the paint was pushed and pulled over her skin in sweeping circles. She heard Peeta say, 'Stop,' and opened her eyes to see him holding the morphling's arm and shaking his head. Then his fingers were on her face. Smoothing through her hair. She let her eyes fall closed again.

Someone pulled off her shoes and socks and began on her feet and ankles. Relaxed as she was it didn't tickle which she found odd. She wondered what they were drawing but soon stopped caring and let herself simply feel the paint, fingers and brushes as they moved over her skin. The gentle massage lulled her to a place near sleep but not quite. The sounds of tributes sparring and practicing were far off and the loudest sounds to reach her ears were the breathing of the three leaning over her and the rustle and tiny crunches of the grass they knelt in.

***

Peeta grinned with artistic pride when, during the walk back to their penthouse apartment, Haymitch rounded a corner and Katniss nearly burst out laughing at the shock in his eyes and slack mouth. She assured him she’d clean up before dinner with Effie to which Haymitch shook his head in strong protest. The prospect of Effie seeing this was too much to pass up.

Katniss did clean most of it off, yellow, green and brown swirling down the drain. But she was careful to leave the first small flower Peeta had painted on the pulse of her left wrist. Hopefully the paint would stain if she left it there a while longer. Maybe later, in the arena, she'd be able to see it and remember.


End file.
